


Blue Shifted

by angelan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelan/pseuds/angelan
Summary: He hadn’t slept more than a few snatched minutes in a week, he was low on supplies.  What he needed was a safe place to rest, but there was a lead to his target on this planet, and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his hands again.  All he had to do was blow up one ship, and get off planet without anyone noticing.  Easier said than done.In the wake of the reaper invasion, Fenris is hunting the indoctrinated Asari matriarch who made him what he is.  Reapers or no reapers, Hawke mostly just wants to get paid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this literally years ago; it was from a prompt and i can no longer remember the details to give credit ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. anyway, it amused me enough to pick it up again. kirkwall is a real place in scotland, but is not, to my knowledge, yet a spaceport.

“Well Mother, you were right the whole time. This ship is going to be the death of me.”

The photograph tacked up on the dash didn’t reply. Mari would’ve given anything for another round of her mother’s disdain, but the reapers had seen to that as they fled Glasgow for the spaceport at Kirkwall. They’d been in the middle of an argument when she died. It seemed stupid that they would never have another one. 

The beeping from the dash continued. They’d dropped out of the jump without attracting undue attention but this system was reaper space now. A problem here, even a small one, could easily be the difference between escape and fiery, fiery death. This wasn’t a small problem. They had supplies and guns for the Turian resistance on Aephus from the Asari, who weren’t officially helping anyone. So the commandos who wanted the supplies shipped contacted the alliance, who found them a shady human smuggler with falsified papers and a bad attitude and voila. No political feathers ruffled. It pissed her right off. The universe was ending, and the damned asari were worried about who was going to end up on top after it was all done. If they kept up like that it’d be the reapers on top of all of them. And the Hawke family would be sitting at the bottom of the heap. Like always.

“Hawke, I’m going to assume you know what that beeping is, and it’s not a problem.”

Varric. Short. That wasn’t a very flattering one line description, but there you were. Lots of family on Earth, but raised on Shanxi. If he hadn’t been human, he would have fit right in on a volus world. “Because I just don’t like to borrow trouble. Of course, I also don’t like to get blown up because someone forgot to fill the gas tank.” 

“Yes, Varric. I forgot to fill the gas tank. I failed to jump two hundred years back in time to put gasoline in my nuclear fusion engine. Don’t you know _anything_ about starships?”

“About as much as you know about poetic licence, I suppose.”

Mari rolled her eyes. They were a skeleton crew, just the four of them, not that the Lady Amell needed much in the way of bodies. She was small, could manouver in atmo like a shuttle. Not much in a fight, but they were trying to avoid those. Mari would have liked Carver here though. She would forgive him for running off to join Cerberus if he would turn up with a big ass assault rifle and have her back when they landed.

_If_ they landed. She silenced the alarm. There was nowhere to discharge the static until Aephus. By her calculations, they were going to make it. Probably. Assuming it didn’t start building up any faster than it already was. Otherwise. Well, firey death now, firey death in three days on Aephus, firey death in three months when the reapers won the war - what was the difference?

“Remind me again why I let you on board?”

“Ha! You really want to get into that again, Hawke?”

“Oh come on Varric, we all know it’s your chest hair. One sight of that golden mass and she just couldn’t resist.” Isabela purred from the pilot’s chair. “That’s actually why the reapers invaded - they want to make you their new god.”

Varric shrugged expansively and got up. “If that was what they wanted they should have asked politely. I’m getting coffee - you want?”

Mari shook her head, Isabela raised her full mug, which probably contained their terrible homebrew rather than caffeine. When the door sealed, she paused, then turned to Hawke. “Drive charge is getting high fast, Mari.”

“Yeah. I think one of the thermal conduits might have fried.”

Isabela had been dishonorably discharged from the Alliance Navy for “multiple infractions and unprofessional behaviour” but she was a good pilot. She knew what that meant.

“Options?”

“Hope the other conduit doesn’t fry under the strain, get to Aephus, land somewhere with no reapers, discharge on planet.”

Isabela frowned. “That’s option, singular, sweet thing.”

“Turn around and head for Menaphani. Discharge for two days in its atmosphere. Pray the reapers don’t find us while we’re blind and helpless. Miss the drop. Cut the engines, wait for the drive to be cool enough to work on. Pray I can fix it. Pray the reapers don’t find us while we’re blind and helpless-” 

“Miss the drop.” Isabela finished for her. “Sod.”

“Yeah.”

“If I was going to die in space, I wanted to at least be blind drunk. Preferably in a wild embrace with an asari matriarch.”

“And how drunk are you?”

Isabela looked sadly down at her coffee mug. “Oh, not enough by half. Not enough by half.”

Mari looked at Leandra’s picture again. “Well, Mother was right, I _wouldn’t_ last a year without her.”

“Oh come on, I’m _definitely_ not drunk enough to listen to you get all maudlin. You have a decision for me, great leader?” Isabela snorted, with about as much deference as she ever mustered.

“Keep our course.” Mari decided, quickly. “More likely to find a sexy asari matriarch on Aephus than Menaphani. And maybe if we make it most of the way we can discharge the cargo. Hit a reaper in the face with it, go out screaming, make them regret they ever messed with Earth.”

“Humanity’s parting blow. Box to the face.” Isabela raised her coffee mug.

Mari raised her mug in answer.

“Box to the face.”

 

———————-

 

“We’re what?” Bethany didn’t sound panicked enough to have understood even fifty percent of what Mari had just said.

“Electricity build up in drive core fast. Ship go boom. Death to all.” Isabela interjected, comfortingly.

“We’re going to make it, Beth.” Mari said, gritting her teeth to stop herself from yelling at Isabela. 

They were all gathered in the cockpit for what was either going to be the last three hours of their journey, or the last three hours of their lives. It was going very, very slowly.

“So, uh, anyone up for wicked grace, or…?”

========

Isabela claimed she flew better with a slight buzz. Mari was fairly ready to accept that on a regular run (Bela hadn’t crashed them yet, after all), but today she was accepting and joining in on the basis that she didn’t want to die sober either. Even Beth had taken a shot. She and Varric were sitting in the back of the cockpit with their crash restraints on while Isabela and Mari conducted the landing. Varric had stopped talking, may all gods of the universe be praised. Mari gritted her teeth. Every time an alarm tripped, she silenced it; Bela didn’t need the distraction. 

“Course is off. Three hundred kilometers east of target.”

“Only three hundred? I’m doing well. Port thrusters aren’t firing right.” 

Mari frowned. “I’m going to override safe static levels and reroute power from shields. Things might get interesting, but you should be able to compensate.”

“Define ‘interesting’, Hawke.” Varric put in, tersely.

“Fuck’s sake Tethras, get a sick bag.” She retorted, imputing the commands with a vicious grin. 

The effect was immediate, a startling bang, a huge shift in the cargo hold, and a correction of their course. They just had to hold on for another twenty minutes without exploding. No problem. Hawke took another shot of her drink. It burned. All hail Beth, the moonshine queen. Long may she reign.

They hit atmo and their shields fried entirely on entry. Mari had expected that. The hull would hold well enough. She was less thrilled when the lights shorted out in the cockpit making Beth stifle a scream and Varric fail to do the same.

“Six km east of target, Mari.”

“Not near enough. The reapers see us the whole thing is a wash. We’ll not get paid. Also we’ll be dead.”

“Then give me more thruster power!” Isabela snapped, her eyes not leaving her screen.

“Fine. I’m sealing us in here and diverting life support and antigrav from the rest of the ship. No one leaves the cockpit, understood?”

“Even if-“

“We’re all friends, Varric, piss yourself in here.”

“Mari!”

“It’s fine, Sunshine. Lets list our blessings. Oxygen.”

“Safety restraints.” 

“Gravity.”

“A genius pilot!” Isabela raised her mug.

“A masterful engineer!” Mari grinned. “Oh, and a shitload of luck.”

They hit ground hard, destroying half a forest in the process. When they came to a final stop there was a group exhalation. No question the turians knew they were here now. She hoped that shitload of luck meant the reapers didn’t.

“1km east of target. Nice work. The turians can have a nice brisk walk to pick up their weapons, it’ll do them good.”

“‘Nice work’, Mari? I want a medal. I want six medals handed to me by scantily clad asari matriarchs. I want to be declared a hero.”

“You’re a hero. You’re all heroes. Now help me set up the static discharge or we’ll be stuck here when the turians lose against the reapers and the moon gets blown to shit. Air’s fine, apparently.”

Varric and Isabela left the cockpit to get suited up, bickering about who was getting the worst job, while Beth stayed in the chair, restraints on.

“My hands are shaking. Everything is shaking. We were going to-“ 

Mari pulled her out of the chair and into a fierce hug. “We’re going to make it. All this shit. Reapers, whatever.” It wasn’t true, but if Mari could move the universe by sheer force of will, she’d do it for Beth.

“It’s the end of the world, sister.” Beth sighed, pulling on her environment suit.

“Yeah, well. We’re Hawkes. We should be used to that, right? We’ll go down kicking.”

“Kicking and slightly drunk on my homemade whiskey?”

“Absolutely. The Hawke way. C’mon, lets get this thing discharged and spaceworthy. We’re going to need the alliance to comp our repairs, I think. They’d better be grateful.”

They decended through the cargo hold. A mess, of course, but a problem for the turians. They were being paid to deliver, not to gift wrap. 

“If Carver were here-“ Bethany started, then stopped.

“If Carver were here, we’d be having a fight.” Mari said, more sharply than she meant, then sighed, “I wish he were, anyway. I could use a good fight right about now.” Then she reached the bottom of the ladder and realised why Bethany had stopped. The discharge equipment was scattered around, and the drive hatch was open. Varric and Isabela? Nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

If his luck held, Fenris would save the Turians from certain death, and they would never know he’d been here at all. Meaning, he thought with a wry smile, they had him in their scopes right now. That was actually fairly unlikely. For one, it was pouring with rain, which Turians didn’t like. For two, the moon was being targeted by advance reaper ships, which was keeping them too busy to notice one escaped lab rat, even one planting kilos of explosives. 

He hadn’t slept more than a few snatched minutes in a week, he was low on supplies. What he needed was a safe place to rest, but there was a lead to his target on this planet, and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his hands again. All he had to do was blow up one ship, and get off planet without anyone noticing. Easier said than done.

He’d managed to intercept the plans for the drop, and that included the landing coordinates. An indoctrinated asari agent had hired some lowlifes from Earth to do the transport - twelve huge crates of guns, explosives, and supplies. Maybe enough to tilt the fight for this moon in their favour, except that the whole thing was rigged to detonate as soon as the Turians brought it into their base. So far he’d had no luck revealing the asari’s identity. He doubted her thugs would know anything, but there might be communication records. He’d just have to make sure the data survived the explosion, but the cargo didn’t.

The trap was rigged. The rain was getting stronger. He felt a twinge in his eezo markings and looked up. The Lady Amell was here. Right on schedule. Perhaps his run of luck was holding.

It had, in fact, chosen just that moment to run out. He watched the ship (if it could be called such. It wasn’t much more than a shuttle, really) made re-entry, flashing red, like the shields were compromised. It was also travelling much too fast. He swore in Thessian and ducked behind his makeshift shelter, only to see the ship come down taking half the forest with it. At least a kilometre away from the explosives. Great. If the turians had seen that crash they’d be on it like a shot and he’d either need to reveal his presence or let them die. Neither was an appealing option. He couldn’t trust that there were no indoctrinated turians here. If word of his survival reached his target, there would be no chance he could reach her, he’d be dead. Surprise was his only viable strategy against an enemy twenty times his age with reapers on her side.

So he could let them die. They might die anyway. It was one moon. Vital, strategically. He swore again. This was a mess. A mess she’d intended, no doubt. Every outcome a win for her. He couldn’t outthink her. He could die trying, though. He cut through the undergrowth as fast as he could and reached the clearing (clearing, crash site, was there a difference?) in time to see the crew disembark. Humans, no surprise there. Only two. There had to be more. A short man and a tall woman, wearing no helmets, and non uniform environment suits. Looked like they were setting up for a manual discharge. The equipment looked ancient. Unless earth was more backward than he’d heard, it definitely wasn’t a reputable shipping company. Smugglers, probably. Trying to survive. He exhaled. It was time to go to work.

His eezo hissed as he slipped behind a biotic shield. It functioned like a stealth cloak in some ways. He’d bled from the eyes the first time he’d managed to get it to work. Now it was second nature. It felt cruel. They weren’t prepared for…whatever he was. Human, he supposed. He had no recollection of his family before the lab. Before the asari. Before Den’aria. He was sleep deprived, hungry, not at his best, but he was three feet away and they had seen nothing. The woman, he suspected, was drunk. It would be the work of a second to snap their necks, and he found he could not. Damn it. 

========

He left the woman sedated in the undergrowth. The man he dragged away with a hand clamped over his mouth. He was short, but bulkier than Fenris had anticipated. Perhaps if it had been a fair fight, there might have been a problem. Luckily, it wasn’t. He slammed the man up against a tree with his forearm, and pulled his helmet off with the other hand, disregarding the rain. He looked the man directly in the eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

The man looked at him with suspicion, but less fear in his eyes than Fenris had expected. “I’ve been asked that before, she didn’t mean it.”

“I mean it.” He let the biotics light up his right arm to emphasise the point. “Tell me who hired you.”

“All right, no need to resort to fireworks.” He coughed a little, which Fenris suspected may have been for dramatic effect, but he wasn’t going anywhere Fenris couldn’t catch him. He lifted the pressure from the man’s throat.

“Now tell me what I need to know.”

“We can’t start with names?” He smiled as if they were sitting down to a drink. He was standing with this man’s life in his hands, but suddenly felt at a disadvantage. “Varric Tethras, author, businessman, occassional smuggler. At your service, if feeling a little coerced.”

“Who. Hired. You.”

Varric spread his hands like he was one of the politicians you saw on ANN, which Fenris immediately saw as suspicious.

“Well, it all started in a bar on Omega, so in retrospect, I should have known it was a bad idea…”

——

“Bela what the fuck happened?”

“I swear I’m not drunk.” Isabela said, staggering out of the dark, shortly before planting her face into the floor.

“Isabela!” Bethany ran to her before Hawke could stop her. There were no signs of reapers, no sign of any threat at all, but something had happened. The reapers weren’t subtle. If they’d spotted the Lady Amell, they’d just send a ship to kill them all, they’d have no need to take them out separately. Whatever this was, it didn’t like it’s odds against four of them.

“We have no idea what the fuck this is, Beth. Stay together.”

“You don’t have to protect me, Mari.”

“No, I need you to protect me. What happened, Bela?”  
She was sitting up in the mud, hair plastered to her face by the rain.

“Bastard got me from behind, I didn’t even see him.”

“Turian?”

“No. Human, I think. Biotics though. Saw him dragging Varric off before I went under.”

“He tranqued you?”

“Tried. I’m resistant to Porpibate.” Hawke nodded. People who’d more than dabbled with Creeper usually were.

“At least he didn’t want to kill you.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. Bethany would try to find the good in someone who was probably trying to scoop them on this job.

“He could have. He must have been ten centimetres behind me, and I didn’t see him, didn’t hear him.”

“I don’t care if he’s a fucking wizard, he’s not taking the cash for this job. We made it this far, I’m getting paid.”

“You think that’s what he wants?” Isabela said, as Bethany helped drag her to her feet.

“What else? Turians aren’t going to be checking ID; it’s a big enough take and we just did all the hard parts.”

“So what do we do?”

Hawke smiled grimly. “Why don’t we ask Bianca.”

—-  
They’re on Kallini. Or was it Ketosh? Fenris was lost. Varric’s story had gone down at least four blind alleys, and he’d only been speaking for a few minutes.

“Are you planning to get to the point any time soon?” He flared his biotics to punctuate the question.

“This is the point. So anyway, no shit, there we were in the customs office, and this Asari, I think her name was Areilli’a, she was convinced Hawke was smuggling weapons out-“

“You were smuggling weapons out.”

“Well sure, but she didn’t know that, it was just a hunch. Anyway, she’s got the Lady Amell impounded, and you have to understand, that ship is Hawke’s baby, she loves it like you love being cranky.”

“I do not love being…cranky.”

“Well, you could have fooled me; there was no need to get violent, but here we are.”

“I asked you one question. You haven’t answered. I presume they’re paying you well for the silence.”

“Hey I’m talking! Not my fault it’s a long story!”

“I just want a name.” He should have just killed them. They didn’t have the answers he needed, or they were closer to Den’aria than he realised, and were willing to die to keep them. He had spent too long on this one. “If I need to extract it by hand I will.” 

Den’aria had called it ‘phase shifting’, and more than one test subject had died with their arms or heads stuck in walls. One had never shifted back, and existed for 5.23 screaming minutes as some kind of biotic ghost. They’d collected a lot of data that day. He wouldn’t literally extract a name, of course, but if the man had it, then having someone’s hand squeeze his brain would probably remind him. And if not, well, there were worse ways to go in this hellscape.

The biotics hissed to life up his arm, and then, with no warning at all, someone shot him twice in the chest.

—-

“Jeez Hawke, I had him lit up like the Blackpool Illuminations four times and it took you this long? Bianca’s insulted.” 

“Bianca needs to have an aim-assist installed.” Hawke sighed, handing him his precious sniper rifle. It was a heavily modified Widow, and you could have bought the Lady Amell twice with it. Varric pretended he’d won it in a bet, and she pretended to believe him.

“What did he want?”

“To know who hired us. I guess he’s one of Petrice’s set. Blondie must be in some shit, Hawke, if they followed us here. Mercs like that don’t come cheap.”

“You think he came alone?” Bethany asked, glancing about her like an ambush was about to descend from the trees.

“Keep together, eyes open. The Turians should be here soon, with our money, and I want to be discharged and off this fucking rock before anything else goes wrong.”

 

—

He’d been shot in a place that should have been fatal before. It didn’t get any more pleasant with the repetition. Lying, back in the mud and face the rain, he had to concede he’d been sloppy. He’d underestimated the smugglers, they were gutter scum from Earth, trying to make a fast credit. He had expected an ambush with a pipe wrench, not a sniper half a kilometre away. An expensive weapon, for a group of smugglers. 

Whoever had shot him hadn’t been the best shot in the world, or they would have gone for his head, and even he would have struggled to survive that. So they could waste a gun on someone who couldn’t shoot it. Maybe they’d found it. Or maybe his loquacious friend was good at sweet talking a Black Widow. That seemed unlikely. He was barely five foot tall.

They made no sense. If they were just here for a paycheck, why not just give up their employer? If they were in Den’aria’s pay directly…why were they so ramshackle? He couldn’t risk it. If they were hers, they would be sending her a message about his presence as soon as they could get in range of a working comms beacon, and she wouldn’t loose track of him twice. The simplest way of preventing that would be to stop them leaving the planet.

He pulled himself to his feet, plastered omni gel over the holes in his armour, and set off towards the Lady Amell. Hopefully he would be able to contain this, find their contact, and get off the fucking planet before anything else went wrong.


End file.
